


Going Down

by Snapes_Godess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 15:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18944140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapes_Godess/pseuds/Snapes_Godess
Summary: Given the choice between facing her ex-husband or escaping into a lift with Lucius Malfoy, Hermione decides to take her chances with the lift.  Little did she know that it would end up being a ride that would change everything.





	Going Down

**Author's Note:**

> I. This is a work of fan-fiction, I do not own any of the settings or characters. All recognizable features of this story are the property of JK Rowling and WB. I make no money from the sharing of this fic  
> II. This is an old fic, written years ago but never shared. I wanted to "christen" this new profile with something new before moving over my older stuff!!  
> II. I look forward to hearing from you!

Going Down  
By: Snapes_Goddess

It’s been said that no matter how fast or far that you run, your problems will eventually catch up to you.  
Hermione knew that this was true, yet it didn’t stop her from moving as quickly as she possibly could—without actually running—from the courtroom.  
D-i-v-o-r-c-e  
Such an incredibly ugly word.  
Even more ugly when you didn’t see it coming.  
Even now, as she clutched the finalized document in her hand, the scroll still vibrating with contract magic, she couldn’t believe it had come to this.  
Ten years.  
Ten years of marriage to the man who had been the love of her life since she was barely old enough to understand what that meant.  
Ten years of marriage to one of her best friends. To a man that she had trusted beyond all reason and had loved to the best of her ability.  
Ten years wasted. Ten years that she could never recover.  
And why?  
Because she just wasn’t ready for motherhood.  
It wasn’t that she didn’t want children. She did! She longed to cradle a baby in her arms, to feel life growing and moving in her womb.  
But not now, not when her career was so demanding, not when her husband still worked in the most dangerous field in the wizarding world.  
She wasn’t ready. She was only twenty-eight, there was no rush.  
At least not in her mind.  
Hermione wanted to be a present and active parent, but she also wanted to maintain a career. That required her to be able to balance family and work and that meant waiting until things in her department—a relatively new department in the ministry that she herself had spearheaded—settled.  
Ron didn’t see it that way.  
In his mind Hermione was stalling. He wanted something from her that she just didn’t feel that she could give him. Ron longed for a house full of children and wife who stayed home, schooling and caring for the family the way his mother had done for him.  
And sadly, that wasn’t who Hermione was. She loved Ron, but she could not sacrifice the very core of who she was for him.  
They were on different pages where family was concerned. And that had driven a wedge in their marriage.  
The disagreements had come more frequently as Ron strove to change her mind. But she had stood firm, all the while the distance between them continued to grow. Hermione had hoped that he would eventually understand how she felt and that they would talk it through, compromise, come to a decision that both would be satisfied with.  
Instead a messenger had come to her office and delivered a summons. Ron had filed the initial paperwork to dissolve their marriage based on irreconcilable differences.  
It seemed as if he too were standing firm.  
“Hermione, wait!”  
At the sound of his voice her step quickened.  
The sound of her heeled shoes clicking against the marble floors echoed as she strove to get as far away from him as possible.  
There was nothing more to say.  
It was over.  
“Hermione!”  
Thank goodness the halls were somewhat crowded. It made it more difficult for him to catch up to her as she darted around a corner towards the lifts. She slapped her hand against the buttons, not really caring which way the car was going so long as it was away from Ronald Weasley.  
She could still hear him calling out to her, the sound of his voice getting closer. She hit the button again, sighing with relief when the bell chimed signaling that the car had arrived. The doors opened just as Ron appeared at the end of the hall, looking through the crowd, searching for her.  
Her stomach dropped the moment that his eyes settled on her.  
“Hermione, wait!” he called, trying to push through the throngs of people that had exited the lifts. She looked back at the open lift doors and her heart stopped.  
Leaning against the back wall was a familiar face framed by long platinum hair and piercing ice blue eyes.  
“Oh god,” she muttered as she turned to see Ron steadily moving towards her. She looked back into the waiting lift car at Lucius Malfoy and felt her face heat as her blood pressure rose.  
“For Circe’s sake, Hermione, just stop!” Ron called from a short distance.  
She couldn’t talk to him. She just couldn’t. It was too much. She had too many emotions coursing through her in that moment. Anger, disappointment, sadness, rage….all of them churning together to create a volatile storm of feeling inside her.  
No.  
“Oh, to hell with it,” she muttered as she darted inside the lift just before the doors closed.  
Lucius Malfoy, in that moment, was the lesser of two evils.  
She bit her lip and startled when she heard Ron beating on the doors and calling her name just before the lift jerked sideways and threw her against the man casually watching the public display.  
“Sorry,” she muttered, quickly moving away from him and towards the control panel. Lucius said nothing, but from the corner of her eye she could see him smirking at her. Of all the people to witness her at her lowest, it had to be him.  
All she wanted to do was have a moment alone. A moment where she didn’t have to hold the tears inside, where she could let it out, where she could vent the frustration and tension that had her body strung so tightly. But no, she couldn’t be lucky enough to have an empty lift car so it would have to wait until she could exit and just go home to her new flat.  
Just as she began envisioning the quiet solitude of her own place she was jolted back into reality when the lift made a very sudden, very violent stop, slamming her painfully into the wall.  
“What is going on?” she asked aloud, more to herself than the man occupying the car with her. She began pushing the buttons on the control panel violently but nothing was happening.  
“We apologize for the inconvenience but the lifts are experiencing operational difficulties. Please relax while our engineers see to the problem. We will have it operational again as soon as possible. Thank you.”  
The disembodied voice that filled the car did nothing to calm Hermione’s already shattered demeanor.  
“No…no,no,no,no, no,” she muttered as she continued to punch buttons repeatedly and at random. “No, please!”

 

Lucius stood quietly at the back of the elevator and watched. It had been an unexpected delight to watch the frantic and distraught witch enter the lift so desperately, clearly fleeing from her buffoon of a spouse. 

He didn’t particularly like her or her philosophies on the treatment of magical creatures. 

He especially didn’t like her spouse or his family.  
Of late he had become rather apathetic with life in general. He took no real pleasure in anything anymore. He just sort of went through the motions, keeping his nose clean so that the powers that be might stay out of his way.  
So, it was exhilarating to feel such delight in seeing the miserable witch dash into the lift car with him.  
Now as she slapped her hands against the closed doors in futility he found himself nearly overcome with the urge to laugh.  
“That isn’t going to help,” he said, amusement clear in his voice. The wild-eyed witch stared at him for a moment before she returned to her infernal drumming on the wall.  
“I can’t…” she whispered, “Please!” Then suddenly she began to twitch violently and Lucius realized she was trying to apparate.  
“You cannot apparate in the Ministry of Magic!” he said, laughing as she did  
it again. “I’m not going to hurt you, you little fool!”  
It was then that he began to put the pieces together.  
She was sweating, and her face had gone pale. Her breathing was quick but shallow as she tried once more to apparate.  
The witch wasn’t afraid of him; she was having a panic attack!  
Guilt was an emotion that Lucius had never been particularly sensitive to, at least not until after the war. Now it was a bloody nuisance that occasionally reared its unsightly head.  
Like in this moment, trapped in the lift with a claustrophobic witch.  
“Bloody hell,” he muttered as he tossed the length of his robes behind him and leaned his cane against the wall. He stepped forward and grabbed Hermione by her arms, shaking her once firmly. “You can NOT apparate in the Ministry of Magic, stop trying before you hurt yourself further,” he demanded.  
“I need to get out,” she panted.  
“You cannot. Not by manual or magical means until the engineers fix the problem,” he said firmly. “Take deep breaths. In and out. Slowly.”  
She struggled with the simple directions and Lucius could see she was on the verge of hyperventilation.  
“Close your eyes and listen to my voice,” he said. When she closed her eyes he began to speak softly and slowly, the way he spoke to his horses when they were spooked. “After the war Minister Shacklebolt decreed that no magic other than that put in place by ministry officials could be used within the Ministry itself. The wards are strong and there is nothing you can do to bypass them. The lift will get moving again eventually, until that time you do not have a choice. You need to calm yourself before you become ill. I can assure you that I have absolutely no medical training at all.”  
“As if you would help me if you did,” she snorted. Lucius smiled slightly.  
“If you are being snarky then you must be feeling better.”  
“A little bit,” she said before taking a deep breath and opening her eyes. “Thank you.”  
Lucius released her and took a step back, waiting to see if she was steady on her feet. When he assured himself that she was fine he resumed his place leaning against the wall.  
“I had not thought you afraid of anything,” he stated, watching as the witch attempted to smooth her frazzled hair back into the elastic band that was struggling to secure it.  
“Small spaces are one of the few things,” she stated honestly.  
“Well, the lift really isn’t that small,” he noted, looking around him at the lift car.  
“It’s not so much the size as it is the fact that I am trapped and cannot get out!”  
“And trapped with a death-eater at that,” he stated coolly.  
“I think we have already established that I am not afraid of your sort,” she said, her brow arched haughtily.  
“My, my, my, the little kitty has claws I see,” Lucius clucked. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” she asked, suddenly realizing that not only was he speaking to her but he was speaking to her with a modicum of respect.  
“Am I?” He tilted his head to the side with a thoughtful expression. “Well, I suppose it is out of self-preservation. You see if you do yourself serious injury, or by some odd coincidence manage to kill yourself with your ridiculous attempts to flee then I am going to be left alone with your corpse. Quite frankly, I don’t want to be found in an elevator with the wizarding worlds Golden Girl lying dead at my feet trying to explain that it really wasn’t MY fault that she had departed the mortal plane.”  
“So your intentions are purely self-serving?” she queried. Her heart had ceased its racing and a smile was tugging at her lips. When did I smile last? She thought as she watched Lucius fight his own grin by carefully wetting his lips and clearing his throat.  
“Would you expect any less of me?” he asked.  
“If you had gotten your way I would have been dead at your feet years ago, one would think you would relish the thought of finishing what you began.”  
“It isn’t polite to rub ones failures in their face,” he sniffed arrogantly as he brushed a piece of lint from the front of his robes.  
Hermione sensed that he was jesting and she could no longer fight the smile that threatened.  
“Are you so sorry that you didn’t kill me?”  
“There are moments, especially when I am forced to pay the half-ogre who tends my gardens a wage, that I wish I had succeeded.” The cruel words had a bite of amusement laced in there, but she could detect that note of truth that threaded through them. Lucius may have learned to play nice, but he was still Lucius at heart.  
“Soon I hope to add house-elves to the list of creatures entitled to a fair wage.” She was deliberately taunting him and they both knew it.  
“I wouldn’t get to confident, Mrs. Weasley, it requires more than a simple edict from you. House-elves view servitude as part of their culture. For centuries their identity is wrapped up in serving the wizarding families to which they are indentured. If you take away their identity, how have you done them a service?”  
Lucius saw her body stiffen and for a moment feared that she might have another panic attack. Or was she merely going to rant at him over his view of servant’s rights?

“Actually, it is Ms. Granger now,” she said softly.

Lucius watched as the spark that had been in her eyes only seconds ago faded.  
“Is that why you were so hell bent on getting away from Ronald?” he asked. Truly it was none of his business, but he was curious.  
“Yes,” she sighed, leaning back against the wall of the elevator. “I have no idea what he wanted to talk about, I just know that I am not ready to listen to anything that he has to say. Not right now.”  
“You will have to hear him out eventually,” he said.  
“Will I?” she queried. “What do you know about divorce, anyway?”  
“My marriage to Narcissa was dissolved roughly five years ago.”  
“I didn’t know that, I never heard about it. What happened?” she asked.  
“Nothing special, we just went our separate ways. Ours was never a love match. Our families arranged the marriage our last year of school. We produced an heir and he survived to adulthood, our contract was fulfilled. Had we been in love perhaps it would have continued, but alas we were not. She is quite happy living in Paris with her new husband whom she IS in love with.”  
Hermione was surprised at the candid answer. Even more surprised that Lucius did not seem at all bitter or upset by it. He stated it as simply and honestly as if he were reciting a grocery list.  
“Why did you tell me?”  
“Didn’t you ask me?” he asked, confused. “What happened in your marriage?”  
“I’m not ready to have a baby.”  
“Then you shouldn’t, not until you feel you can be a good parent.”  
“What do you know of good parenting?” she snorted rudely.  
“I may not have been the best father, but I love my son very much,” he answered calmly despite the hit to his pride. “Being a misguided parent isn’t necessarily equal to being a bad parent you know.”  
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” she said penitently. “I think the divorce and now this…elevator fiasco…is just wearing on my nerves.” Hermione tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and looked over at the panel on the wall. “Do you think they are nearly done?”  
“I couldn’t say, it could take….”  
He didn’t get to finish his train of thought. A house elf suddenly appeared in the car before them.  
“Apologies, Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy. The lift is very seriously broken and it is going to be a while. I have been instructed to bring comfortable seating and refreshments for the wait,” The house elf said. With a snap of his fingers a velvet settee and a small table with refreshments appeared inside the elevator.  
“Wait! Can’t you take us out of here?” she asked, praying that the house elf could apparate her out of the confined space.  
“No, Mistress, magical security code 459-SBJ04 strictly forbids the transportation of witches and wizards into, out of or within the ministry of magic. Violation of this code without the express permission of Minister Shacklebolt is strictly forbidden and is punishable by imprisonment or death.” The house elf recited the code quickly and succinctly, which lead Hermione to believe that she was not the first elevator captive to request it.  
“But…” Then, as quickly as it appeared it disappeared, leaving her alone once more on the lift with Lucius.  
“This is partially your fault,” Lucius said as he removed his robes and draped them over the back of the settee.  
“How is this my fault,” she asked. He looked different without the expensive, flowing robes he always wore. Dressed as he was in simple gray pinstripe trousers and waistcoat with a plain white shirt and shiny gray tie he seemed almost normal.  
“Had you and your friends not engaged in more than one battle within ministry walls, snuck inside more than once and created massive damage to the archives, artifacts and structures located within, there would be no need for such strict security,” he said, tugging at his trouser legs before he settled onto the settee and reached for the pitcher of water on the table.  
“But, we were fighting for the greater good!” she insisted. “And you were here as well if I recall!”  
“Alas, but it was not I who sent wayward spells that toppled archive shelving. Nor did I impersonate ministry employees in order to gain illegal access to the building, or destroy the ministry welcome center with a battle,” he chided as he filled a small plate with cheese and fruit.  
“We were children,” she pouted as she flopped down onto the settee beside him. “We were trying to do the right thing.” Hermione shrugged out of her top robe, leaving her in a simple cotton skirt and buttoned shirt.  
“Well, historically this is how it has been. Men and women fight for the greater good which only ends up increasing or creating laws to ultimately protect the greater good for which they fought. It just so happens that in this instance the laws that protect what you fought so hard for are rather inconvenient for you in this moment.” The smug smile on his face was irritating, but not as much as the fact that he had a very valid point.  
“You are enjoying this moment aren’t you?”  
“Very much, thank you!”  
“It appears we are going to be here a while,” she said, reaching for the bottle of wine rather than the water. “Might as well make the best of it!”  
“You are divorced, so now you intend to become an alcoholic?” Lucius asked, watching her fumble with the corkscrew for a few moments before he snatched it from her hand and opened the bottle himself. “It only dulls the pain for a moment. You will have to deal with it eventually; wouldn’t you rather do it now and move on with your life?”  
“That’s part of the problem,” Hermione said as she watched Lucius pour her a glass then hand it to her. “I am angry and hurt…but I don’t think it runs that deep.”  
There in the small confines of an elevator with a man who was a virtual stranger and for whom she cared not one whit, she voiced the thing that bothered her most.  
“Then perhaps the divorce was a blessing in disguise,” Lucius said, pouring himself a glass of water and leaning back against the settee. “Perhaps you were staying in it for the wrong reasons. Maybe you didn’t love your husband.”  
“No, I loved him,” Hermione said surely. “But it wasn’t the same as in the beginning.”  
“They call it the honeymoon period for a reason,” he stated. “In the beginning it is all fresh and new and rosy. Your vision is clouded by passion and sex. And then the realities of life begin to creep in, finances, responsibilities, family and work, they all take their toll.”  
“We never really had that honeymoon period,” Hermione said reflectively. “Our relationship was always…difficult. The war, recovery from war, fame…there was never time for our vision to be clouded with passion and sex.”  
“Well that is a shame,” Lucius said softly, looking over at the witch beside him. She was attractive in that wholesome, goody two-shoes sort of way. Despite her age there was innocence about her that should have been eradicated by the war and pain that she had born witness to.  
“It never seemed that important,” she said. “I mean, it was fun and all, but it was never something that seemed to be a pillar of our relationship.” Hermione frowned and stared at her glass of wine. “Is there something in this wine? Why am I talking to you about this??

“Because I am here and you are overwhelmed. I am, for lack of a better term, a captive audience,” he said. He casually reclined on the settee and crossed his legs, watching the woman beside him as she swallowed back the wine as if it were juice.  
“Captive, but not caring,” she sighed as she refilled her glass and turned towards Lucius.  
“Tis true, I care naught for your domestic problems,” he said honestly, watching her brows furrow in irritation. “But I am stuck in this lift with you and I find myself rather entertained by your plight.”  
The way Hermione was gulping down the wine she was going be completely pissed in short order. Lucius looked at the bottle and watched as the liquid inside bubbled and level rose back to the top. It was just as he thought, the food and drink had been charmed to automatically refill.  
“Of course you are entertained,” she muttered looking around her. “I certainly pray that they get us out of here before either of us needs the loo.”  
Just then a porcelain chamber pot appeared in the corner. Lucius began to laugh at the look of horror that crossed her face. The sound startled her. His laughter sounded rusty and dry as it were something he rarely did. He was laughing at her and she knew it, but somehow was more fascinated than offended.  
“What do you do?” she asked softly.  
“What do you mean?” he asked, his laughter dying off as he shook his head and reached for his glass of water. “I do what I have always done, I invest in businesses, build them up to profitable Levels and then I sell them and collect the profits.”  
“No, I mean for fun,” she asked. “Why don’t you join me?” she reached for the bottle of wine but Lucius stopped her.  
“I don’t drink.” He said it softly but firmly as he took the bottle from her hands and sat it back on the table.  
“Why not?”  
“Because I like it too much.”  
“You have a drinking problem?” she asked, eyes wide. She felt a little tug of excitement in her belly at this very personal revelation.  
“I don’t know that I would say I have a drinking problem,” he said thoughtfully. “But I feared that it was moving in that direction. After the war I was a social pariah. I took my family and we relocated to our country estate for a time. It was there that I spent hour upon hour reflecting.” Lucius paused and looked meaningfully at the rosy cheeked witch watching him with such interest. “Do you have any idea how devastating it is to hold a mirror up to one’s true self and for the first time see the darkness of your soul?”  
“Everyone has darkness in them,” he offered.  
“But not everyone is consumed by darkness…there is a difference,” he said softly. “It was nearly unbearable. I reached for the bourbon and for weeks I numbed the pain with drink. I indulged in every vice I could. I was gambling, boxing, womanizing…I gave in to every hedonistic impulse that came to mind. I was lost.”  
“How did you stop?” she asked.  
“I was stumbling through the halls after a night of drinking and whoring and as I passed my son’s room I saw the glow of light from beneath his door. I heard him crying out and went inside. My son was asleep but in the throes of a nightmare. The nurse-maid entered, surprised to see me there. She told me that since his 5th year at school Draco was unable to sleep without a light on, fearful of who or what might lurk in the shadows of his room. Nightmares plagued him so that he could not sleep through the night. He was depressed, tortured and desperate for relief.”  
Lucius watched as tears rolled down Hermione’s cheeks and clung to the ridiculous length of her lashes. He reached out and caught one of the crystal droplets on the end of his finger, fascinated that this young woman would shed tears for him.  
“I realized that while I had been selfishly retreating into myself, nursing my own bruised and battered ego, medicating myself with drink and sin—my son was suffering. I have not touched drink since. I devoted myself to being the father and friend that my child needed as he battled the demons that I myself had set upon him.”  
Tears rolled freely down her face, pent up emotions finding release at his words. While she couldn’t permit herself to cry for her own loss she could allow herself to shed them for a boy’s innocence lost.  
“I…thank you for telling me that story,” Hermione said softly. “Is it true?”  
“While I can see how you would doubt my sincerity, it is, in fact, the absolute truth.” Lucius was not offended by the question, he was amused.  
“Do you miss it?”  
“Do I miss what?” he asked.  
“Marriage.”  
“At times I do. Sometimes the silence of an empty home is too much for me.”  
“I like the quiet,” she said. She immediately made a face that indicated regret. “That’s a mean thing to say.”  
“There is only myself here to hear you and I happen to have a rather mean reputation, some might say that there is no better place to vent your mean thoughts. I am not likely to be offended by anything you have to say.” Lucius was not particularly driven by thoughtfulness in his offer to be her sounding board. He was curious about what the witch would say. What horrible things was she holding inside?  
It should be entertaining if nothing else!  
“I love Ron, I loved being his wife…but…”  
“Go on, I promise I will not judge you.” Of course that was a lie and they both knew it! He would judge her, but he would strive not to judge her too harshly.  
“Sometimes I just want to be alone! I want to come home and I want to have a glass of wine and I want to read a book or watch the telly. I don’t want to talk! I don’t care about quidditch and I don’t care about criminals…I don’t want to hang out down at the pub with his mates! And I don’t want to spend every weekend with his family! I love them, the Weasley’s are good people but there are so many of them! It is always so loud and so chaotic…sometimes I just want to be at home or go to the theater or just go for a walk!” Hermione sighed in relief as she felt some of the tension leave her. Finally she said what she was thinking and no one would be hurt by her words.  
“Feel better?” Lucius asked. She thinks this is mean?  
“Yes!” The tipsy witch set her wineglass on the table and reclined against the arm of the settee.  
“You feel bad that you will not miss being married to Ronald?” Lucius prodded. Surely there were some darker thoughts somewhere inside that cluttered mind!  
“Yes, I do! I feel bad that I enjoy coming home every night to peace and quiet. I enjoy eating what I want for dinner and I enjoy watching what I want on the telly. And I enjoy going to bed alone! I love sleeping alone in my big bed with no one pawing at me or snoring or waking me up in the morning by poking me with …” She stopped suddenly and slapped her hand over her mouth. Her cheeks flamed bright red as embarrassment washed over her. “I shouldn’t talk about such things, I apologize.”  
“Sex? It is not something one should speak of in polite company but you and I have a rather sordid past so I think perhaps we are beyond the normal societal proprieties.”  
“Sordid?” Hermione snorted and sighed loudly. “Ugh, why does it have to be so complicated!”  
“Sex should never be complicated,” Lucius’s lips twitched slightly.  
“Oh, really? What should it be then?”  
“Sex is simple. You have a need, a desire, and you must fulfill it. It is basic.”  
“But if your partner can’t fulfill that need or desire it becomes complicated!” Hermione argued.  
“A skilled and generous partner is of course a plus, but your fulfillment should not be their responsibility. You should take ownership of your own pleasure, your own wants and needs. Once you do that fulfillment becomes simple.”  
“You are very arrogant,” Hermione stated.  
“Arrogance often gets confused with confidence,” he said as he leaned back and stretched his legs out before him, his ankles crossed casually.  
He looked directly at her, meeting her gaze first before deliberately letting his eyes slide lower to her plump lips that were slightly stained from the wine. Nervously she raked her teeth over her bottom lip, dampening it in an inadvertently seductive gesture.  
“Are you saying you are confident in your…abilities?” she asked. Her voice was raspy and soft, foreign to her ears.  
“I am,” he responded, his eyes sliding lower to where her high-necked white blouse was buttoned snuggly beneath her chin. “Are you always so stuffy?”  
“Stuffy?”  
“Do you need to be buttoned up so?” he asked, staring pointedly at her collar. “Unbutton it.”  
“I beg your pardon?” She wanted to sound indignant, but the words came breathlessly instead.  
“I said unbutton your blouse. Loosen the bonds that hold you so tightly,” he said. “Unless you enjoy being so restrained.”  
“I…I…” she wriggled slightly in her seat, her cheeks flushing as she swallowed hard.  
“Perhaps you would prefer that I do it?” Lucius said it more as fact than question as he sat up and turned towards her. Slowly, so that if she desired to stop him she would have ample time, he reached out to her. His fingers were gentle and deft as she slowly slipped the buttons at her throat free.  
When the valley of her cleavage became visible he slid his hand along the side of her throat until he could feel the impudent thrumming of her pulse at his fingertips.  
“Hmmm, your pulse is racing like the wings of a hummingbird,” he said softly, his fingertips dancing over her skin. “Are you frightened, little Kitten? Or are you excited?”  
“You don’t scare me,” she whispered as her eyelids grew heavier.  
“I don’t want to scare you,” he trailed his fingers downward, feathering along the valley between her breasts to the remainder of the buttons on her blouse. “Not at the moment anyhow.”  
“We shouldn’t,” she protested. “What if they fix the lift? Or what if the elf returns?” She was struggling to gain composure but as she felt the cool air touch her heated skin when he parted her blouse she knew that she was lost to him. She knew that she was going to allow Lucius Malfoy to touch her, to mold her body to his and take her. 

It was foolish, wicked, and exactly what she needed. She needed to feel, to want and be wanted in return. She needed to be consumed utterly so that there was room for no thoughts other than those of Lucius. She wanted to be deaf, dumb and blind to everything else in the world aside from the pleasure that she was certain he could provide.  
For just a little while she wanted to be wanton, wicked and wild. Anyone other than the prim and proper Hermione Granger.  
“House elves are discreet, they don’t gossip about their betters,” he said as he pulled her blouse from the waistband of her skirt. “Should the lift move a simple spell will have us dressed in no time.”  
“Then why not use a spell to undress us?” she asked, whimpering as he pushed the blouse from her shoulders.  
“Because there is no fun in that,” he said. “You are really quite lovely. Now this is interesting…” Beneath her clothing she wore a lightly boned silk camisette with garters and briefs.  
“I like pretty things,” she explained, shivering as he ran thumb over the taut nipple of her left breast as it pressed eagerly against its satin covering.  
Her breasts were not particularly large, but they were plump and filled his hand nicely as he cupped her. She was delightfully sensitive and more than responsive to his touch. He found himself aroused in a way that he hadn’t been in a long, long while.  
It was more than just dallying with a witch half his age. It was more than just dallying with the famous Hermione Granger.  
It was the purity of her response. She didn’t pretend. She wasn’t trying to please him. In fact, the witch seemed oblivious to everything but his hand stroking her breasts.  
She didn’t care who he was. She wanted nothing from him aside from the pleasure he could give her.  
“What do you want?” he asked quietly.  
“More,” she whimpered in response. He captured the impudent tip of her breast between his fingers and squeezed gently. Her whole body shuddered against him.  
“Will you take me inside of you?” he asked as his hands slid lower, over her hips and down her thighs until he could slide them up once more beneath her skirt.  
“Yes,” she gasped as he freed the clasps of her garters with an expert twist of his fingers.  
Hermione found herself leaning into the corner of the chaise, her knickers lying elsewhere in the lift, one foot on the cushion and one on the floor, legs splayed as Lucius Malfoy leaned between them.  
He tugged the top of the camisette down, freeing her breasts so that they were shelved above the structured garment, displayed just for him.  
He clasped her chin in his hand and tilted her face upwards, forcing her to meet his gaze.  
“Do you consent?” She nodded and he smirked. “Say the words, Hermione. Say that you want it.”  
“I want it,” she answered. “I want you. Please.”  
The sound of her soft pleading vibrated through him, straight to the bourgeoning erection tenting the fall of his trousers.  
He lowered his head and lightly nipped at her lower lip with his teeth. With the tip of his tongue he tickled at the sensitive seam of her lips until they parted and he could slip inside. She tasted sweet, like the wine and berries she had just eaten. Her lips were soft, her tongue shy and tentative as she returned his kiss.  
As he kissed her she would sigh and moan into his mouth as she wriggled and pressed closer to him. Finally, he felt her hands reach for him, sliding up the front of his waistcoat and shirt and threading into his hair to cup the back of his head.  
She pulled him closer, struggling to deepen the kiss but he pulled back and chuckled softly, “Greedy little Kitten.”  
With his fingertip he gently traced the puckered areola of one breast and then the other. He watched her chest rise and fall more rapidly as her excitement grew, listened to the breathy little noises that escaped her lips as he teased her.  
When he ducked his head and captured one of her nipples between his lips she cried out, arching her back and pulling his head tighter against her. He licked, nipped and suckled the turgid bud while Hermione writhed beneath him, desperate for release as the hot tension inside her built.  
With gentle fingers Lucius lightly stroked her knee then slowly traced a line along the inside of her thigh. She trembled beneath him, her fingernails lightly scratching against his scalp.  
“I can’t believe I’m doing this….in a lift…with a Malfoy,” she whimpered. “Oh my word!” She nearly came off of the settee when his fingertips slipped between the plump lips of her sex.  
His touch was met with slippery heat as he lightly stroked between her thighs. She was swollen, wet and if her response was anything to go by she was operating on a hair trigger.  
“My goodness, what have we here?” he purred as he tapped his thumb against her clit.  
“Oh…don’t stop,” she panted as she lifted her hips towards him, eager for him to push her that slight distance to the release her body desperately craved. How long had it been since she had orgasmed? A week? A month? Longer?

“Now, Now,” he chided as he pulled his fingers away. She nearly screamed in distress as she reached for his arm to hold him in place.  
“No, please!”  
“Remember what I said earlier? About taking responsibility for your own pleasure?” he asked as he resumed his leisurely sprawl on the settee. “If you want it, down just lay there and wait for me to give it to you, Kitten. Come take it.”  
“Take it?” she blinked rapidly as stared at him leaning back against the settee, his legs stretched out before him.  
“I am yours to command,” he said with a smirk.  
It was as if her sex life flashed before her eyes. Years of awkward encounters before settling into a moderately satisfying routine that lacked any true passion.  
Now she was sitting in a lift, her body primed in a way that she had never known at the hands of the enemy. She wanted to analyze the situation, she wanted to dissect everything that was wrong and odd about the situation that she currently found herself in but…  
The throbbing between her legs was only increasing as she let her eyes fall to the rigid rod that was currently outlined by the thin material of his trousers. Her mouth watered for more of his kiss and her nipples ached with the need of his mouth suckling her.  
This was no time for thinking. She was going to get what she needed and guilt, history, propriety could all go to hell.  
She moved awkwardly towards him, clearly unsure of herself and out of her element, but Lucius didn’t seem at all bothered by it as she moved to straddle his thighs.  
“This is a good start,” he said softly as he clasped her waist.  
Hermione reached between them and released the buttons on the fall of his trousers, tentatively drawing back the material. He chuckled at her disappointment at finding his cock hidden by the tails of his shirt that had been tucked inside.  
“Keep going,” he said, “Ill give you a hand.” While Hermione reached for the buttons on his waistcoat he began to loosen his tie. Within a few seconds, despite her awkward hand at his buttons, she had his shirt open and was staring openly at the turgid length of flesh currently resting against his lower abdomen.  
“Oh,” was the only sound that slipped past her lips.  
Lucius felt the change in her immediately. She went from aroused and curious to nervous and unsure in a flash.  
Realizing that he was going to have to guide her he shifted on the settee and pulled her forward so that they were chest to chest.  
“Lift up,” he whispered softly against her lips as he reached between them and grasped the base of his erection. As if he had a honing spell cast on his manhood he found the opening to her honeypot and pressed in. “Take me inside,” he commanded.  
With a whimper she let her body relax and slowly slide downward, allowing Lucius to fully penetrate the snug heat of her body. His hands tightened on her hips and with gentle guidance he showed her how to move, how to find the rhythm that worked for her.  
She was hot, snug and eager as she moved over him. While she felt incredible wrapped around him like a hot little fist, Lucius was mesmerized by her face. She was flushed, her chest, neck and face a vibrant shade of pink. She had her eyes closed and her head thrown back, her lips parted as soft sounds of pleasure slipped through with every slide of her body over his.  
“Oh Gods…” she moaned loudly, her pace beginning to pick up. She was close, he could feel the grip of her sex around his cock tighten.  
“Lucius…say my name,” he growled as he began to roll his hips, grinding his cock deeper into her. He would have liked for things to have lasted longer but it was clear that the witch was close and he didn’t have it in him to stop her this time.  
“Lucius…Lucius…Lucius…” she chanted his name as she rode him. Her fingers were digging deep into his shoulders as she climbed towards release, her fingernails biting into his skin. The closer she got the less coherent his name became on her lips.  
Lucius prided himself on his prowess, on his ability to control his release, on his stamina. But when Hermione finally reached the pinnacle his own climax ripped from him suddenly and fiercely.  
She cried out hoarsely, her back stiffening as the snug walls of her vagina pulsed. As quickly as she stiffened over him she relaxed, her body shuddering violently as she fell against him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face into the side of his neck.  
Lucius held her close as he pulsed inside her. Both of them were breathless, trembling against each other, the only sounds were that of their heavy breathing.  
Neither spoke, they just stayed there, on the settee for several minutes, spent. Then, they heard the soft whirring of the elevator motor coming to life.  
In a flurry, they searched for their wands, desperate to cast the spells needed to right their clothing before the doors opened.  
“Bollocks,” Hermione muttered under her breath as the lift doors opened and they were greeted by worried faces. Ron’s included.  
“Hermione, are you alright?” Ron asked concerned as he took in her flushed face. He looked over at Lucius and frowned, “What did you do to her?”  
Lucius smiled as he pulled on his leather gloves and adjusted his robes.  
“Nothing that you should be concerned with,” Lucius smirked. He looked at Hermione and gave her a genuine smile. “Ms. Granger, it was a pleasure. I hope that you find what you seek.”  
As he stepped out of the lift he looked arrogantly down at Ronald Weasley, “If you can’t do the job like a real wizard, get off the broom.” With a flourish that only Lucius Malfoy can pull off he pushed his way through the crowd and down the corridor.  
“What the bloody hell does that mean?” Ron muttered as he turned back to Hermione, only to find her gone. He looked into the lift at the settee and shook his head. “Surely not…”


End file.
